Abandonment Issues
by Galad Estel
Summary: Clingy! Elrond. Paranoid! Elrond. After his wedding with Celebrian, Elrond starts freaking out about the future of their relationship. Humor/Angst/Romance. Elrond/Celebrian. Crack.


**AN: My attempt at writing romance gone disastrously astray. I don't know if it is possible to write a happy, Elrond romance. I challenge anyone to try. - Galad Estel**

'Celebrían?' said Elrond. They were snuggled together in Elrond's enormous bed in Rivendell. It was midwinter, and the blankets were piled on thick. Elrond had been lying there thinking, while Celebrían had been slowly falling asleep.

'Yes, Elrond?' Celebrían's back was to him, and her face was pressed up against the pillows, so her reply came back muffled. Her back fit perfectly against his chest, but he guessed that was anatomically normal.

'Are we truly married?' It was a silly question. They had been married for a week now, had had a lovely winter wedding. Celebrían's gown had been white as the snow, and she had been decked in white gems and silver. Her silver hair had lain loose over her shoulders, beautiful with the moonlight shining through. She had looked like electricity – lightning, that was it! Her ice blue eyes had glinted in a peculiar way when they had made their vows. He had thought she had looked…happy? But that was impossible. No one was ever happy with or around him.

'Yes, Elrond.' Celebrían yawned. She turned over and nuzzled her face up against his neck.

'So, you are mine. I am not dreaming?' Elrond wondered if these questions of his were romantic or just tiresome. Celebrían sounded tired, but then again, they had had a long day and sex.

'Well, I wouldn't say I was _yours_ exactly. I am my own person but...' Celebrían finished with another yawn. She stretched and then kissed him. She played tenderly with his long, raven-black hair.

'But we are married?' Elrond insisted. He didn't know why he was insisting on asking such stupid questions, but he was. He was trying to figure out why she wasn't freaking out about being married to him. After all, Elrond wasn't a healthy, full-blooded Elf. He was a Half-Elf with a family background of insanity!

Also, he had baggage, lots of baggage. So much baggage, in fact, he had baggage on baggage. He could fill a storeroom with all the baggage he had.

His childhood had been a nightmare: parental abandonment, raised by serial killers, whom he had loved – typical case of Captivity Syndrome.

And then there was his horrible adolescence: didn't know how to bond, twin brother decided to go mortal on him, didn't care, became a herald, got ordered about, learned how not to have a backbone.

And on top of that his unfortunate adulthood: learned how to bond, got clingy, didn't want his brother to die, made all sorts of solvents and medications to try to prolong his brother's life (learning the arts of healing in the process, one plus), watched his brother die, became a door-to-door salesman to get rid of all those stupid solvents, got laughed at, spent a long time not bonding, met Glorfindel, met Gandalf, got clingy again, watched the guy he was supposed to be protecting – also known as High King Gil-galad – burn to death. Yes, Elrond had had more than his share of bad times.

So, when he had met Celebrían, he had prepared himself for the worse. Not only would Celebrían reject his advances if he dared say anything, but she would laugh in his face. Then she would tell all her friends, and they would laugh in his face too, and they would tell their friends, who would laugh in his face, and so on, until everyone in Middle-earth knew, and Elrond had become their favorite laughingstock.

At this point in his fantasy, Elrond had decided it would be good to tell Celebrían his feelings. It would be nice to be a favorite something, even a favorite butt of all the jokes…he had never been anyone's favorite. (Everyone had loved Elrond's dead brother better and said how they wished it were Elros who had decided to become immortal because he was always so cheerful, the life of the party, the happy host, etc. They had never guessed that Elros had been sick of them all, which was why he had decided to die.)

By the time Elrond decided to confess though, Celebrían had run off to the beach with her Mum and Dad. When she and her parents dropped by for a visit later on, however, Elrond had gathered the guts to tell her - through a squeaky minstrel. At first Celebrían thought it was the minstrel who liked her, and Elrond, who had lost his courage, played that up, but the minstrel, who was already married, had confronted Elrond afterwards, and finally Elrond had admitted his feelings to Celebrían.

So, yeah, he was a pathetic loser, a nut case and a half. So, why, oh, why, was SHE with him? This beautiful, charming, strong-willed, intelligent, kind-hearted young lady?

'Yes, Elrond, we _are_ married,' said Celebrían. She ran her fingers along the back of his neck and started on a neck massage.

Celebrían was so calm about all this. Elrond wanted to, well, he didn't know what he wanted to do. He certainly didn't want to strangle or punch her. She would know he was crazy then! But suddenly, a thought struck him! The reason she wasn't freaking out was because she didn't know him yet. In her mind, he was still this dashing, romantic, yet sensible young man. She had set him up as an ideal and had yet to figure out that she was completely mistaken. He was not who he appeared to be: no Lordly Lord of Imladris was he. He was befuddled, screwed up - a slave boy with no one to order him about.

'And you won't run away and leave me?' Elrond asked anxiously.

'No, I won't run away. I might leave from time to time, but I'll always come back.' Celebrían kept rubbing him, her hands now on his shoulders.

'Always? You promise?' Elrond knew how binding a promise could be. He had learned it all from foster father/serial killer number one. Maglor had told him all about the promise he had made to his father about getting back his father's shiny rocks and how that had led him to become a killer. _Not that killing is always a terrible profession,_ Maedhros, foster father/serial killer number two had chipped in, _but it's rather weighing on the conscience._ Elrond, then seven, hadn't been sure what body part the conscience was, but he had decided then and there he didn't want to become a killer or make promises. He didn't want to get fat.

'Yes, Elrond, to the best of my abilities.' Celebrían's fingers had moved to his upper back, idly tracing circles over his spine.

'Are you good at coming back?' Elrond asked. He didn't like the idea of Celebrían leaving at all. He guessed now that that had been her plan all along. Celebrían wasn't what she seemed either. He might not be a lordly Lord, but she was not a sweet, innocent maiden. Far from it! She was a psychopathic beauty determined to break his heart. Everyone he had ever met was crazy, so why should she be different? After all, her mother, Galadriel, was from the same insane breed of Finwions as Elrond. And Celeborn was, well, Elrond's great granduncle. If they had children, they would probably also end up crazy!

'Usually. I can walk and run and ride, and if need be, I'll fly.' Celebrían was really working the massage now, firm swirls up and down, warm fingers pressing against his skin.

'Don't fly. People always fly away from me, not to me.' Elrond thought of his mother who had thrown herself off a cliff and turned into a sea gull, escaping foster fathers/serial killers one and two with the shiny rock they had wanted. Elrond thought of his father who flew overhead in the first star ship – the Vingy-something – masquerading as the evening star. Elrond hated the idea of flying.

'I'll be the exception.' She pulled him into her arms. 'You don't have to worry. I'll always come back to you.'

Her heart beat gently in her chest. He loved the sound of it. Their bodies were warm, pressed together.

'You promise?' he asked.

'Yes,' she said. She climbed on top of him and kissed him. 'Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you.'

_Finis._


End file.
